


Sunrise

by maggsam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Minor Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggsam/pseuds/maggsam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots for Teen Wolf Femslash Fic Writing Week</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [readymachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/readymachine/gifts).



> Allison Argent/Lydia Martin  
> The trope for today (Oct. 11th, 2015) is: FAKE/PRETEND RELATIONSHIP.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic was written for Teen Wolf Femslash Fic Week 2015, a fic writing challenge week.  
> I'm fucking ecstatic because here is my FIRST EVER FEMSLASH FIC. It's been a long time coming, and I hope I did the femslash community justice with this. I know I have about a billion chapters to write for my three multi-chapter Stydia fics, but there is no limit to how long/short these chapters/drabbles/stories will be. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Her gin and tonic is a lot more tonic than gin.

Allison glares at it accusingly before squeezing in the rest of the lime with slender white fingers, her short, blood-red fingernails catching the swirling pink and blue lights.

It was a mistake to come. She doesn’t even like to drink anyway. But today she is twenty-one. And that means something. It’s a rite of passage, really.

She just never thought that she’d be celebrating alone.

Well.

Alone as one could be, surrounded by strangers.

Allison had picked this bar because she always passed it on her way to the shooting range. It was alluring from the outside. Clean lines and twinkling lights. Clearly a mature, upscale bar where a young woman could pretend like she belonged. So when her birthday began to fastly approach, she jumped on Yelp, confirmed that yes, her taste is in fact, immaculate, and began to strategically plan.

She pictured going with a bunch of girlfriends, or Scott. Or even Isaac. She would spend all evening putting on makeup, slathering her legs with expensive lotion, rolling on her favorite fragrance. Waltzing in with her elbows locked in the crooks of her friend's arms, just completely oozing with self-assurance.

She had spent all evening on her makeup, and her lotion and perfume were intact. The self-assurance however, is lax. And the friends….

Her next drink is a cranberry vodka.

There is no shame in a cranberry vodka, she reminds herself, albeit patronizingly. Girls drink cranberry vodkas. She’s allowed to be a normal girl. There’s nothing wrong with being a normal girl.

Although what normal girl is alone on her twenty-first birthday?

Allison tosses it back, smacking her lips at the tart flavor.

That’s it. She’s feeling a little looser now. She pushes her dark hair over her shoulder, rubbing at her fair, swan-like neck. She deserves this. She deserves to relax. Even if it’s just for a little. Even if it’s just for a few hours, just for a night.

She gets the attention of the bartender, holding up her empty glass, and he replaces it with the same.

She tilts it to her lips, just about to drink, when a voice cries out, shrill and ecstatic.

“Babe! Baby, there you are!”

Allison turns in confusion.

The voice belongs to a girl, seemingly around her age, with long, soft, golden-red curls, a wickedly plush smile, and the biggest green eyes Allison has ever seen.

“Huh?” she says dumbly.

The girl turns over her shoulder to look at a handsome man currently staring Allison down.

“Told you.” she croons before twiddling her fingers mockingly. “Toodle-loo, Jeremy. Or whoever the hell you are.”

“That’s your girlfriend.” The man mutters, voice low but strong enough to carry over the loud jazz music.

The redhead turns back to Allison, eyes wide. Her eyelashes are so long they brush the underside of her quirked eyebrows.

“Allison.” she finds herself saying before she can think.

“Allison.” the girl mimics, a slow smile spreading across her face as she drinks her in.

The man just rolls his neck, huffing before moving to the other side of the bar.

Allison watches curiously as the girl blows out a breath before jumping into the barstool next to her.

“Honestly,” she sniffs before tossing her long curls over her shoulder, giving Allison a whiff of jasmine. “Why is it that you literally have to claim you belong to someone else before they leave you alone? Like, telling you I’m not interested is not enough for you? I have to belong to somebody first? Jesus.”

Allison gives her a tight lipped smile before returning her gaze to the drink in her hand.

“Lydia.” the girl offers, making Allison look up again.

She’s staring at Allison expectantly.

“Allison.”

“I know.”

“R-right.”

“Cranberry vodka, huh? My favorite.”

See Allison? Nothing wrong with a cranberry vodka.

Lydia looked like a normal girl, excluding the fact that normal girls don’t look like Aphrodite.

Lydia leans across the bar, crossing her arms under her bosom, causing her top to dip dangerously low. The bartender practically sprints to get her order.

Allison grins, biting the inside of her cheek.

“So Ally,” the girl says, crossing her legs and turning her attention completely to Allison. “Are you alone tonight?”

She hadn’t planned on talking to anyone. She just wanted to get a few drinks just to get carded and say she did something for her birthday instead of watching Gilmore Girl reruns with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“Yeah.” Allison breathes.

“Why?”

“A girl can’t come to a bar alone?”

“Not a girl that looks like you.” Lydia remarks, arching a perfectly manicured brow. Allison feels herself begin to warm.

“Well, I was planning to be joined by a few friends, but something came up last minute.”

“Aw babe,” Lydia hums, and Allison feels the pet name simmer in her belly. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I too am here alone. And you did just rescue me from that brute. I’ll be sure to return the favor if any undesirable characters come sniffing around you tonight.”

Allison slowly smiles, before finally allowing herself to laugh. Lydia smiles back, and Allison notices the dimples in her fair cheeks, deepening like the ones in her own.

“Cute dimples.”

“Same to you.”

Lydia is a student at the local Ivy, a fact which makes Allison’s eyebrows raise, but doesn’t altogether surprise her. She likes The Princess Bride, purple, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, peonies, and still considers Pluto a planet, despite scientific reasonings. (It’s a matter of _principle_ , Allison). Dislikes include hangnails, runs in her tights, chrysanthemums (subpar at best), men who don’t take no for an answer the first time, and sheer nail polish. (I don’t want to have to reapply fifty coats to build color. Do your job the first time. I have shit to do, theorems to write).

She’s easy to talk to. Dry and witty and dangerously charismatic. Allison notices the amount of looks people shoot them over the course of the hour, but Lydia doesn’t. Or at least, pretends not to. But Allison is starting to think she’s used to people looking at her like that.

Lydia pays for Allison’s drinks throughout the night, telling Allison that she owes her.

They’re four drinks in when Lydia leans close and brushes a few strands of Allison’s hair behind her ear. Allison tries to concentrate on not turning a bright pink.

“What about you, Ally? What do you do?”

She’s been dreading this. But Lydia is honest, and Lydia is fiercely unapologetic. Allison tries to emulate that confidence.

“I’m...well...I’m a nationally ranked archer and a weaponry distributor.”

Lydia’s mouth falls open.

“I’m-I’m not some crazy wingnut gunman or anything!” Allison quickly says, eyes widening before biting her lip. “I’m always a little nervous to tell people that, because it’s their first assumption about me. My father provides weapons to local law enforcement and hunting places, like Cabela's? Like a middle-man. He needs some assistance so I’m running a portion of his business now, and I just do archery for fun, God, am I a loser or what I’m so embar--”

“Allison.”

Lydia's hand darts out to grab Allison’s, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Allison I think you’re fucking great. Really, really great. Seriously, that’s so badass.”

Allison searches Lydia’s eyes for a flicker of something in-genuine, but she finds nothing. Lydia is smirking at her but her eyes are soft, and she blinks languidly as she studies Allison in return.

“Do you want to get some air?” Lydia asks quietly, and the moment feels fragile, so Allison nods slowly, as gentle as possible.

  
  


 

Lydia is a few inches shorter than her, even in heels. Allison plays with the curls ending at Lydia’s waist. She threads her fingers through the tips before softly brushing her hip through the soft fabric of Lydia’s dress.

“I’m so glad you were kind enough to pretend to be my girlfriend so that bozo would leave.”

Allison grins.

“It wasn’t much of a sacrifice.”

“You’re really stunning you know. You’ve got this whole Snow White thing going for you.”

She feels herself blush, but she smiles gratefully at Lydia, watching as Lydia leans into the stone wall outside the club, crossing her arms over her ample chest.

She had planned on being alone tonight. Planned on nothing of significance. But she was wrong, because that was before she met Lydia. And Lydia is significant.

Allison leans forward and works Lydia’s lips under her own. Lydia parts for her, both gentle and luxurious. They move wordlessly, drinking each other in. Savoring. Smooth and low.

Lydia’s tongue is cherry red, and it moves like velvet over her own matching tongue. She curls her hand into the nape of Lydia’s soft tresses. Lydia runs her finger over the square of Allison’s jaw.

“It’s my birthday.” Allison parts to whisper into the cool night air, and it stretches over them before drifting into the darkening sky. Lydia smiles at her with glossy lips and bright eyes.

“Happy birthday, Allison Argent.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For readymachine, my first legitimate internet friend, fellow trash-buddy xx
> 
> Oct 11: fake/pretend relationship  
> Oct 12: space au  
> Oct 13: college/university au  
> Oct 14: body swap  
> Oct 15: musician/artist/band au  
> Oct 16: neighbors/same apartment building  
> Oct 17: bed sharing
> 
> The week's writing challenge fics can be found in a collection here: http://archiveofourown.org/collections/twfemslashficrecweek
> 
> And I can be found here: red-string-anchors.tumblr.com  
> xx


End file.
